


The Rebel Mage

by TheCookieAlchemist



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieAlchemist/pseuds/TheCookieAlchemist
Summary: Jocelyn Amell is the Hero of Ferelden, the famed mage Warden-Commander, who would eventually become the mistress to Divine Victoria herself. But what if that wasn’t the case?Or a look if what might have happened had Joss not become a Warden...
Relationships: Female Amell & Anders (Dragon Age), Female Amell & Male Surana (Dragon Age), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 1





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This is taking place outside of my main worldstate, obviously. Certain relationships or dynamics may be different and there's a few things that are undecided. 
> 
> Information about Jocelyn Amell's canon run: https://daoce.fandom.com/wiki/Jocelyn_Amell

“I don’t care if Jowan was a blood mage,” Jocelyn snapped. “I’m glad I helped him escape.” 

“You are not helping your case, girl,” Greaigor snapped. 

“I wasn’t trying to,” Jocelyn said. She felt like she should have been scared, but all she felt was anger. “You and your men were going to turn my best friend into a drooling slave against his will. I’m glad he got away and I’d help him escape all over again if given the chance.” 

“This one’s always been trouble, Knight-Commander,” another one of the Templars said. Ser Ulrich had always been one of Jocelyn’s least favorite people in the Circle. “I say we give her the brand. Show these robes what happens when they get out of line.” 

“That’s illegal!” Jocelyn exclaimed, her voice shaking. “I’m a harrowed mage!” 

“She shows no remorse for her actions and she will be punished,” Greagior said, his voice stern. “But we cannot break the laws of the Chantry to do so. She cannot be made tranquil.”

Jocelyn sighed in relief. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with,” she snapped. If she was lucky, she’d die before her courage left her. 

“Very well,” Greagior said, drawing his sword. “Jocelyn Amell, I sentence you to death.” Glaring at him, Jocelyn prepared herself for the blow.

“No!” Rhen shouted. He had been so quiet throughout the ordeal that Jocelyn had almost forgotten he was there, but his plea made Greagoir stop in his tracks. “Please, don’t kill her!” 

“Surana, I know she is your friend, but she has aided a maleficar,” Greagoir said, his voice softening a little bit. He had always liked Rhen.  _ Probably because he’s a Chantry bootlicker,  _ Jocelyn thought. Just like Irving, and Wynne, and nearly every other mage Jocelyn had ever known. And he was also the one who had gotten Jocelyn into the mess she was in by running to Irving the first chance that he could get. 

“Please,” Rhen begged, his eyes shining with tears. “I don’t want Joss to die. She...she just wanted to help our friend.”

“She aided the escape of a blood mage, Surana,” Greagoir said. “And she has shown no visible remorse for doing so. As Tranquility is not an option, she must be executed.”

“But...” Rhen began, but he couldn’t seem to find an argument. Tears were streaming down his face now. “I’ll just go.”

“No!” Jocelyn snapped. “You’re the one who got me in this mess in the first place! If I have to deal with the consequences, then so do you!” 

Rhen looked as if he’d been slapped. “I’m so sorry, Joss,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was hoping they’d spare you.”

“The Templars, spare a mage? You’re a bigger fool than I thought you were,” Jocelyn said. Rhen said nothing, but looked at her with hollow, regretful eyes. If he hadn’t just sold she and Jowan out to the Templars, Jocelyn  _ might  _ have felt sorry for him. 

“Perhaps this is not the best time to pass judgment on Miss Amell,” Irving said, speaking up. “After all, emotions are running high right now, and I don’t want any...regretful actions taking place.”

Greagoir sighed, sheathing his sword. “Very well,” he said. “Irving, you may go, we will discuss this later. Surana, return to your lessons. Amell,” Greagoir continued, turning to Jocelyn now, “I am placing you under arrest. Ser Ulrich, take her to the cells.”

“Gladly, Knight-Commander,” Ulrich said. He seized Jocelyn roughly by the arm and led her away. 

“Your lucky Greagoir’s in charge, bitch,” Ulrich growled once the knight-commander was out of earshot. “If it were up to me, you’d get the brand.” 

Jocelyn said nothing.

“All you robes are more trouble than you’re worth,” Ulrich continued. His grip on Jocelyn’s arm was so tight now that it was starting to hurt. “The whole lot of you are dirty abominations and if it were up to me we’d kill you all the minute your curse showed its ugly face.” 

Jocelyn stayed silent, her face a blank mask.  _ This bastard isn’t worth getting mad at.  _

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Ulrich asked as he swung open the door to an empty cell. Jocelyn remained silent. The sooner she got locked up, the sooner he would leave. 

“You’re no fun at all,” Ulrich said, pushing Jocelyn into the cell and slamming the door behind her. A lock clicked into place. “Have fun rotting in here, bitch. You’ll get what’s coming to you soon enough.”

The only things in the cell were a pile of straw, a threadbare blanket, and a slop bucket. The only light came from a dying torch that Jocelyn could barely see through the bars in the door. It was only when she lay down on the straw that she realized how exhausted and drained she was. She curled up under the blanket, trying to get warm and wondering miserably what was going to happen to her. 

Standing up to the Templars had felt good at the time, but as much as Jocelyn hated to admit it, Greagoir was right: she hadn’t helped her case by doing so. Maybe if she had pleaded ignorance or begged for mercy, she would have...

_ No I wouldn’t have,  _ Jocelyn thought bitterly.  _ The Templars don’t care how innocent I was. All they see is a threat, an abomination. Just look at Ulrich. And Cullen, for someone who claims to love me, was willing enough to run me through if I failed my Harrowing. None of them see me as a person, just a curse, someone who’d be better off dead.  _

Rhen and Irving hadn’t saved Jocelyn’s life. All they had done was delay the inevitable. As a swirl of thoughts, each worse than the last, went through her head, a part of her that she hated wondered if it might have been better if Greagoir had killed her when he’d wanted to. 

___________________________________________________________________________

For the first few days of her imprisonment, Jocelyn flinched every time the Templars came to her cell, thinking that her death was imminent. But so far, all they’d done when they’d come in was bring her food and replace the slop bucket.

Most of them didn’t talk to her, for which Jocelyn was grateful. From the way that they looked at her, she didn’t want to know what they had to say. The exception was Ser Ulrich, who had initially punctuated his visits with every possible insult and threat he could think of. Jocelyn refused to rise to his bait every time, instead facing him with silence and a blank stare. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. 

After a while, Jocelyn stopped flinching when they came in. The days turned to weeks, and she was starting to wonder if there would even be an execution. Maybe the Templars just planned to let her rot here.  _ A miserable fate, but how is being down here all that different from being up there? I’d still be locked up.  _ If anything, being left to languish in a dungeon just proved what Jocelyn already knew: the Circle was nothing but a glorified prison. The only real difference she could see between her cell and the rest of the tower was marginally more space and nicer sleeping quarters. Either way, it was still a prison. 

_ A gilded cage is still a cage,  _ Jocelyn thought to herself. She had told Rhen that once, years ago.  _ Well now the gilding’s come off, and all that’s left is a cage.  _

Just when Jocelyn had started to think that maybe Greagoir had forgotten about her, she got a visit from him - accompanied by Irving - to her cell. 

“Are you here to kill me?” Jocelyn asked. She wasn’t sure if she cared at this point. 

“You are not going to die, child,” Irving said. As much as she didn’t want his pity, he was the first person who had shown her any kindness in weeks. “After much convincing, Greagoir has agreed to spare your life.” 

“This isn’t a kindness,” Greagoir argued. “Knowing what faces her, death would be a mercy.”

Fear shot through Jocelyn like a knife. “Are you going to make me Tranquil?” she asked, shocked. “Because if that’s the case, I’d rather die.” 

“You know that it is against the law to make a Harrowed mage Tranquil,” Greagoir said. “I am sending you to Aeonar. You will stay there for a year, and should you show no signs of corruption, you will be allowed to return to the Circle.”

This did nothing to calm her. “Aeonar?” she asked, her voice decidedly higher than usual. 

“Yes, Aeonar,” Greagoir said. “The arrangements for your transfer there are being made. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep, because you leave tomorrow.” 

And with that, Greagoir left. 

“I am sorry, child,” Irving said. “This was the best that I could give you.” 

“I’ll never survive that place,” Jocelyn said. A lump was forming in her throat. “No mage does.” 

“You are strong, Jocelyn,” Irving said. “If anyone can survive there, it’s you.” 

Jocelyn didn’t reply. She knew if she did, it wouldn’t be pleasant. 

“Good bye, Jocelyn Amell,” Irving said as he left. “May the Maker watch over you.” 

_ Ha,  _ Jocelyn thought. As if the Maker gave a single shit about her. She’d heard the stories about Aeonar, and none of them were good. Not even the strongest mage could last a year there, and Jocelyn had barely been Harrowed. 

Tears came before she could stop them as Jocelyn curled up into a ball beneath her thin blanket. She was going to die alone in Aeonar, surrounded by enemies, and no one would be able to help her. 

Jocelyn was sure that she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, but at some point, she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, someone was gently shaking her, trying to wake her up. She looked around, expecting to see a Templar, but the man who faced her was a mage. A young, familiar elf with dark tanned skin, messy brown hair, and round grey eyes. 

“Come on, Joss,” Rhen Surana said. “I’m getting you out of here.” 

_________________________________________________________________________

“Explain to me why we’re going the opposite way from the exit?” Jocelyn whispered as she followed Rhen through the dungeon. 

“And fight our way through every Templar in the Keep? I don’t think so. Besides, there’s a way out down here,” Rhen said. 

“That’s impossible,” Jocelyn said. “If there were a secret passage out of here, the Templars would have found out about it.” 

“It’s hard to see and even harder to get through,” Rhen explained. 

“Whatever you say,” Jocelyn said, unconvinced. Still, given that the other option was to return to her cell and wait to be carted off to Aeonar, she was perfectly willing to give whatever Rhen was proposing a shot. 

As they headed further into the dungeon, Rhen handed Jocelyn a backpack. “There’s food and some money in there, along with a fresh change of clothes. And I packed that old doll you have from your father in there too. I know you probably won’t be playing with it, but___” 

“That doll is all I have left to remember my family by,” Jocelyn said. “Thanks for packing it, Rhen.”

The dungeon turned into a cave, and Rhen moved a few rocks out of the way, revealing a narrow tunnel that looked just big enough for a person to crawl through. 

“That’s your way out,” he said. “When you get through, climb down to the shore of the lake. Don’t get into the line of sight of the docks or the Templars will see you.” 

“And how am I supposed to get across the lake?” Jocelyn asked. “I can’t swim.” 

“You won’t need to swim,” Rhen said. “Trust me.” 

“Can I?” Jocelyn asked coldly. “How do I know there aren’t Templars waiting outside to gut me?” 

Rhen squeezed his eyes shut, but a couple tears escaped. “I’m so sorry for ratting you out,” he choked. “If I had known all of this would have happened...”

Jocelyn sighed. “I don’t know why you thought I wouldn’t be punished,” she said. “The Templars weren’t ever going to show me mercy for helping a blood mage escape.” 

“They’re not all bad,” Rhen said. “A Templar is the reason you’re escaping tonight. Cullen promised me an hour to get you out of here.” 

“Is that so?” Jocelyn asked, surprised.

“He wanted to help you,” Rhen said. “He didn’t want to see you thrown in Aeonar. He seems to care about you a great deal.”

“I don’t feel the same way about him that he does about me,” Jocelyn began, “but I’m grateful for his help. Make sure you thank him for me.” 

“I will,” Rhen said. 

“I guess this is it,” Jocelyn said a bit awkwardly. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to,” Rhen said. “I know you think I’m crazy for this, but I’m happy here in the Circle.” 

“Well I’ll miss you,” Jocelyn said. “You’ve been like a brother to me. Take care of yourself, Rhen.” 

“You too, Joss,” Rhen said. The pair hugged one last time. “Good luck out there.” 

Jocelyn crawled into the tunnel and didn’t look back. It was very narrow, to the point that even crawling was difficult, and the occasional sharp rock pulled at her hair and her clothes. After a good deal of discomfort, she finally found herself standing outside for the first time in years, and she couldn’t help but smile. She was finally going to be free. 

As she clumsily scaled the rocks leading down to the shore, Jocelyn found herself wondering how she could possibly cross the lake without swimming. Maybe she could turn herself into a bird?  _ If that kind of magic existed, I would have used it to fly out the tower’s windows instead of dealing with this.  _ But the answer to her problem was already standing on the shore next to a boat, a staff strapped to his back and another in his hand. 

“There you are!” the blond mage exclaimed. “I was wondering if you had gotten your rear stuck in that tunnel.” 

“Anders,” Jocelyn said, smiling. “I should have known you’d be in on this.” 

“How could I miss an opportunity to escape when it practically falls in my lap?” Anders asked, smiling back. 

“Maybe this time will be the one you  _ stay  _ out of the Circle,” Jocelyn said, smirking. 

“Hey, seventh time’s the charm. Now, I hate to cut this amusing banter short, but we should really get going,” Anders said. “The Templars won’t take kindly to two fugitive mages having a tea party on the shore.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Jocelyn said, climbing onto the boat. She dropped her backpack in between the seats as Anders pushed the boat out into the water. After it was offshore, he climbed in himself and the two paddled away. Jocelyn turned around in her seat, nervously looking for Templars, but none seemed to have caught onto their midnight escape. 

  
_ I guess I’m an apostate now,  _ Jocelyn thought.  _ No Templar will show me mercy if I’m caught.  _ Still, as she looked up at the moon and stars, she found it hard to worry too much about what awaited her. Whatever happened next, she was free and she wasn’t alone. For now, that’s all she could ask for. 


	2. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their escape from the Circle, Jocelyn Amell and Anders make their way across the Ferelden countryside together.

The minute Jocelyn and Anders made it to the shores of Lake Calenhad, they destroyed their boat. Best not to leave a trail for the Templars to follow. 

“There’s still our phylacteries to worry about,” Jocelyn said to Anders, out of breath. The two of them had spent the night hours that they had left after crossing the lake running as far away from the tower as possible with no clear direction in mind. “And I was supposed to be transferred to Aeonar this morning. When they go to my cell and see that I’m not there, they’ll start looking for me.”

“Your phylactery is all the way in Denerim,” Anders explained. “They’ll need to travel there and get it before they can use it, or it will need to be brought back to the Circle. Either way, we have at least a week before they can track us that way.”

“Bet they regret that,” Jocelyn said. “But they’ll probably still send search parties after us. We need to get as far away as we can, and it’s probably best to stay off of the roads.”

“I have to say you’re good at this whole escaping thing for a first-timer,” Anders said. 

“Well,” Jocelyn said. “I hadn’t told a soul this, but I was planning to run away after I had my Harrowing. I just had a hard time figuring out how I could. I thought about leaving with Jowan, but we got found out.” 

“By your little elf buddy,” Anders said bitterly. 

“If it wasn’t for Rhen I’d be on my way to Aeonar right now,” Jocelyn argued. 

“And if it wasn’t for Rhen you wouldn’t have been in danger of going there in the first place!” Anders exclaimed. “He sold you out to the Templars, Joss.” 

“And he corrected his mistake,” Jocelyn said. 

“But___” Anders began. The glare Jocelyn gave him was harsh enough to make him drop the subject 

They walked in silence from there, across farmlands and plains. Jocelyn didn’t know exactly where they were going except that it was away from the Circle. Finally, when they stopped to rest and eat, Anders pulled a map out of his pack. 

“We’re headed towards the Brecilian Forest,” he said through a mouthful of dried ham. “It’ll be much easier to hide there than it will in the Bannorn. 

“And then what?” Jocelyn asked. “We need a plan if we’re going to survive out here.” 

“You can’t plan out here,” Anders said. “Anything could go wrong at any time, and the Templars can ruin even the best escapes.”

“I suppose you would know about that, since you haven’t had a  _ successful  _ escape,” Jocelyn said, smiling a bit. 

“You wound me, Joss!” Anders exclaimed. “More talk like that and I might cry myself to sleep!” Jocelyn could tell from his tone that he was joking, but his eyes darkened a bit. She sighed. 

“You were down there for a year, weren’t you?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Anders said curtly. 

“I was already going crazy after a month. To be there for that long, alone...I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. How did you survive?” Jocelyn asked. 

“I would plan out my next escape and try not to get stuck in my own head, of course. That’s when all the nasty thoughts came out,” Anders said. “Well, the nasty thoughts weren’t all that bad.” 

Jocelyn laughed. “I can imagine,” she said. “I think that was my problem. I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I couldn’t think of anything but how miserable I was and how much I hated the people who put me there.”

“Did you come up with any elaborate plans of revenge?” Anders asked. “I know I did that a few times.” 

“Nah,” Jocelyn said. “Although the more painful Ser Ulrich’s death is, the better.” 

“Ah, Ser Ulrich!” Anders said. “Is there anyone who liked him?” 

“None of the mages did,” Jocelyn said. “He didn’t even see us as people. Well, unless you got his attention, and then...” she trailed off. 

Anders looked horrified. “Joss, he never did something to you, did he?” 

“Not to me,” Jocelyn said. “From what I can tell, he liked elves. The way he looked at Rhen, I just know Ulrich would have used him like that if not for Irving’s protection. The others weren’t so lucky.”

“I know, Joss,” Anders said. “Believe me, I know.” 

“I hate all of them!” Jocelyn exclaimed. “How can anyone think it’s okay to treat us like they do? And for what? Because we  _ might  _ do something bad? Anyone can do bad things and they aren’t locked up! Just us evil, bad mages! We didn’t ask to be born like this!” A lump formed in her throat, and she had to close her eyes to keep from crying. 

“The Chantry is wrong about us,” Anders said. “Wrong about  _ you.  _ You’re a good person, Joss. Don’t let the Templars make you think differently.” 

“I know,” Jocelyn choked. “The Maker gave us these powers for a reason. If he really did think that magic was evil, he wouldn’t give it to people.” 

“You really are smart, you know,” Anders said. “Much smarter than any of those airheaded Chantry sisters.” 

“Or the Skirt Brigade,” Jocelyn said. “You’d think that the Templars would be embarrassed at those outfits.” 

“They really do have a dreadful sense of style,” Anders said. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in a Templar uniform,” Jocelyn said, smiling now. 

“That’s the spirit!” Anders said. “Now if we don’t want those ugly old Templars finding us, we’d best get a move on. With any luck, we can make it to the forest soon.” 

“Then let’s go,” Jocelyn said, getting to her feet and slinging her pack on. 

As the two continued their trek southeast, Jocelyn took one last look back to where she knew the tower was.  _ I am not letting the Templars take me.  _

___________________________________________________________________________

The days seemed to drag on. Jocelyn and Anders would travel as far as they could during the day, leaving as soon as dawn broke and not completely stopping until it was too dark to see. They slept in caves, under bridges, and anywhere else where they weren’t easy to see, and they would take turns keeping watch just in case. 

Not long ago, they had stolen clothes and boots from a farm; their old Circle robes were too easily recognizable. Jocelyn felt a little guilty about the theft, but she had left a few silvers in the pocket of one of the shirts; hopefully that would make up for it. 

When they had finally left the Bannorn and ventured into the Southron Hills, they agreed to slow their pace a little bit. They stopped to camp in an isolated patch of forest off of the beaten path near a small pond, and when Jocelyn went to get some water, she caught the first sight of her reflection she had seen since her escape.

Her hair had grown longer; it almost reached her shoulders now, but it was greasy and unruly as a result of her inability to properly care for it. She’d lost a lot of weight, and her face had lost some of its fullness. The clothes she had taken, though more practical than mage robes, weren’t particularly flattering and were a bit too big for her. 

“I look horrible,” she said to no one in particular. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Anders said. “I’ve looked a  _ lot  _ worse.” 

“I guess all the running doesn’t really do wonders for personal appearance,” Jocelyn said, smiling a bit. 

“It really doesn’t,” Anders said. “Shame, really. Fortunately, I’m good-looking enough that even at my worst I’m the most handsome man around, and you are still a raven-haired beauty that any woman would be lucky to have.” 

Jocelyn laughed. “I appreciate the compliment.” She lay on her back and looked up at the sky, the moon and stars beginning to come out. 

“As hard as this is,” she said, “the running, the sleeping on the ground, the constant battle to afford capture or death, I don’t miss the Circle at all.” 

“Really?” Anders asked. 

“Really,” Jocelyn said. “It’s just frustrating that whether we’re out here or in there, the Templars will never leave us alone.” 

“That may be so,” Anders began, “but I haven’t seen a single Templar since we escaped.”

“Hmm,” Jocelyn said. “Either we’re too smart for them or they have bigger problems on their mind than two runaways. Of course, they probably think that we’re both scary abominations terrorizing the people rather than two unwashed hermits who haven’t had a proper meal in months.” 

Anders laughed. “To them, all apostates are abominations,” he said. “And if you think that they’re somehow prioritizing something over finding runaway mages, then you...” 

“Then what?” Jocelyn asked. She looked at Anders and found him unhooking his staff and lighting the area with a spell wisp. 

“Joss, there’s something here,” Anders said, preparing for battle. 

“Is it the Templars?” Jocelyn asked, getting up and grabbing her own staff. 

“Worse,” Anders said, a look of horror on his face. “Much, much worse,” 

As Jocelyn looked at their approaching attackers, an icy surge of terror raced through her. There was nothing human about them, from their blank eyes to their rotting skin to their razor-sharp fangs. Jocelyn had never seen one outside of a book, but she knew instantly what it was. 

_ Darkspawn.  _

  
  



	3. Blight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jocelyn and Anders run afoul of the darkspawn - and come across some unlikely allies.

Jocelyn didn’t know how many darkspawn were there and she didn’t need to know. The minute the monsters showed themselves, she sent a fireball in their direction that took out two of them. The nearby trees caught fire and lit up the dark forest. 

“Nice one!” Anders shouted, freezing another darkspawn in its tracks. Jocelyn nodded in acknowledgement before shooting lightning at another darkspawn. It felt good to use magic again, despite the danger they were in. If anyone saw them...

One of the darkspawn got dangerously close, and Jocelyn just managed to stun it with her staff before blasting it away with a powerful stonefist. 

_ Fight now, worry about Templars later,  _ she thought. 

Two more darkspawn approached them. Anders stunned them with a psychic blast, allowing Jocelyn to blast them with a stream of lightning. An arrow just missed Jocelyn, whizzing by her ear and revealing the darkspawn archer previously hiding. The force of Jocelyn and Anders’s combined arcane bolts knocked it over before Jocelyn encased it in a field of crushing force, suffocating it. Then it was quiet. 

“I think that was all of them,” Jocelyn said, out of breath and short on mana. Just when they thought the danger was over, they heard lumbering footsteps coming towards them. Whatever was out there, it was way too big for two exhausted mages to fight. 

“Run!” Anders shouted. Jocelyn saw no reason to argue with that. The two of them ran, but whatever the creature was, it didn’t seem keen on giving up. The creature chased them onto the main road, completely destroying a fence that Jocelyn and Anders had needed to climb over. 

The creature was huge, at least twelve feet tall, with sallow purple skin, wicked teeth, and large horns. It advanced on Jocelyn and Anders, both of whom were too tired to run at this point. 

“Never thought it would end like this,” Anders said. 

“Neither did I,” Jocelyn said. A flame appeared in her hand, weaker than usual. “Let’s go down fighting.” 

The arrow came out of nowhere, then a second, then a third. The monster turned around, chasing after the person who had fired the shot - a young woman with red hair. Before it could get to her, an entropy spell stopped it in its tracks, allowing two warriors - one wielding a sword and shield and the other taller than anyone Jocelyn had ever met, to cut its legs, crippling it. Finally, a woman ran up, slashed it twice with the daggers she was armed with, and then jumped up, grabbed it by the strap holding its armor, and stabbed it in the chest, twisting the knife as she did. 

“Umm...” Anders began, a bit lost for words. “So, who are you guys and how is it you killed that monster?” 

“My name is Kaylen Tabris,” the woman who had killed the ogre said. She was an elf with tanned skin, dark brown hair, and brown eyes. “I’m one of two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden.” She gestured to the blond warrior beside her. “This is Alistair. He’s the other one.” 

“What do you mean, two Grey Wardens  _ left?”  _ Jocelyn asked. 

“We were betrayed by Teryn Loghain,” Alistair said. He spat out the name like it was a curse. “Our commander and most of our comrades died at Ostagar, as did King Cailan and most of his men.” 

“Now the darkspawn are coming to the north through the Wilds,” Kaylen said. “And there’s an archdemon leading them.” 

“Andraste’s tits!” Anders exclaimed. “If that’s going on, that means__”

“There’s a Blight,” Jocelyn said.  _ That answers the question of why the Templars haven’t looked for us.  _ Kaylen nodded in agreement. 

“And to make things even more fun for us, Teryn Loghain has declared the Grey Wardens outlaws and put a bounty on any who live,” Alistair said. “Clearly the Maker wanted to make this as difficult as possible for us. But enough about me, who are you?” 

“Is it not obvious?” another woman asked. This one, a human, had dark hair and piercing gold eyes unlike any Jocelyn had seen, and she wore a ragged skirt and a red top that left very little to the imagination. 

“Umm...” Alistair said, confused. 

“Once again your intelligence is striking,” the woman said. “They are obviously apostates.” 

“Us, apostates? Perish the thought, dear lady! We are but simple travellers who got lost and were set upon by the darkspawn!” Anders said. Jocelyn nodded in agreement. 

“Do not take me for a fool,” the woman said, glaring at Anders. “You both carry Circle-made weapons, and I saw the woman cast a fire spell at the ogre.” 

“Well how do you know we’re not on official Circle business?” Jocelyn asked. 

“Well your companion just lied to me about your identities,” the woman said. 

Jocelyn glared at her. “Don’t even think about trying to turn us in,” she snapped. 

“To do so would be a foolish act,” the woman said. She conjured a light in her hand. “Turning you two in would condemn me as well.” 

“And would that be such a bad thing?” Alistair asked. The woman shot him a glare that would kill lesser men. 

“Well, as the cat’s out of the bag, my name is Jocelyn and my companion is Anders,” Jocelyn said. “We ran away from the Circle a few weeks ago.” 

“And before you make any assumptions, neither of us are blood mages or abominations or whatever else the Chantry says about us,” Anders said. 

“You’re still apostates!” Alistair exclaimed. 

“Why do you care?” Jocelyn asked, glaring at him. “You’re a Warden, not a Templar.”   
  


“This is getting us nowhere,” Kaylen said. “Alistair, I know you used to be a Templar, but right now the Blight is more important than two rogue mages.” 

“So he was a Templar,” Anders said. “Makes sense that he’d have such a wonderful view of us.” 

“Kaylen, we can’t just let them go. They could be dangerous,” Alistair argued. 

“We don’t want to hurt anyone!” Jocelyn exclaimed. “All we want is to avoid being dragged back to the tower in chains. Is that really too much to ask?” 

“Of course not,” Kaylen said, her voice softening. “The two of you can share our camp tonight. You look like you could use a decent meal.” 

“And you promise that you won’t turn us in?” Jocelyn asked, suspicious. 

“As long as you don’t start sacrificing virgins or something, we won’t have any problems,” Kaylen said. 

Jocelyn sighed and slackened her grip on her staff. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll help you set up camp.” 

As Kaylen and her companions set up tents, Jocelyn collected firewood while Anders helped the giant dig a latrine, complaining all the while. 

Jocelyn set up a fire - she had gotten good at it from her time on the run - and was tending the flames when the red-haired woman who had shot the darkspawn walked up to her. 

“So...are you alright?” she asked. 

“As alright as I can be, given the circumstances,” Jocelyn answered. “But hey, if you hadn’t shot that big darkspawn when you did, Anders and I would probably be dead right now. So thanks.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said, smiling now. “I joined the Wardens on their quest to fight the darkspawn, after all.” 

“So are you a Warden?” Jocelyn asked. 

“Oh no,” she said. “But I chose to fight with them.”

“You chose to fight them? Who are you and why would you want to do that?” Jocelyn asked. 

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself,” she said. “I am Leliana. I was a lay sister in the Lothering chantry. Or I was, until I chose to leave with the Wardens. I wanted to help them.”

“Wait, you were a sister?” Jocelyn asked, shocked. 

“Yes,” Leliana said. “Is that so hard to believe...I’m sorry, what’s your name?” 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jocelyn,” she said. “And no offense or anything, but you don’t act like the Chantry sisters I’ve known.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Leliana asked, curious. 

“Well you haven’t called me an apostate once, you didn’t start shouting that I should be taken back to the Circle when your Templar friend started shouting about how dangerous we might be, and you’ve so far been nothing but kind to me,” Jocelyn said. 

“The sisters you’ve met were unkind to you?” Leliana asked. “Why?” 

“Because I’m a mage, of course,” Jocelyn said. “All the Chantry wants to do is control me. They’ve never really seen me as a person, just a walking weapon that might turn into a monster at any minute. The first thing I had to do after I finished my apprenticeship was prove to them that I was worthy to keep breathing.” 

Leliana looked stricken. “That’s horrible!” she exclaimed. “Why would they do that?”

“ _ Magic exists to serve man but never to rule over him, _ ” Jocelyn said. “I’ve been hearing that since I was seven. Your Chantry likes to use it as an excuse to lock us up and claim that the Maker hates us.” 

“The Maker couldn’t hate you,” Leliana said. “You are one of his children, mage or no mage.” 

“I used to think that too,” Jocelyn said. “After all, if the Maker hated magic so much, why would he give it to people? To children who had done nothing wrong? I saw it as a gift from him, something I could use to help people. But all it’s done so far is make me miserable. I couldn’t use it to help anyone when I was locked up in the Circle, and I  _ still  _ can’t use it for anything good now, because if I do, the Templars will just think I’m a maleficar and kill me.” She felt tears in her eyes. “And the one time I tried to use it to help someone, the Templars almost killed me for it.”

“What do you mean?” Leliana asked. “Why would they kill you for that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jocelyn said, hanging her head. The tears were streaming down her face now. Leliana put a hand on her shoulder.

“I know I don’t really know you, but wanting to help people isn’t something that makes you a bad person,” she said. 

“You’re very kind, you know,” Jocelyn choked out. “If the Chantry had more people like you in it, maybe I could believe again.” 

“Do you believe?” Leliana asked. 

“In the Maker, you mean? I think so,” Jocelyn said. 

“Then you must believe he put you here and gave you your magic for a reason,” Leliana said. 

Jocelyn sighed. “Maybe he has,” she said, standing up and looking into the flames. “But I have no idea what it is yet.” 

“Then find it,” Leliana said. Jocelyn said nothing, but continued staring into the flames. She heard her walk away. 

_ I don’t know if you’re listening,  _ Jocelyn thought,  _ but if you are...help me. I can’t do this on my own. Help me prove that a mage can do good in this world.  _


End file.
